


In Love

by Minnow_53



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Boys In Love, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26834146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minnow_53/pseuds/Minnow_53
Summary: Remus and Sirius fall more and more in love during their last year at Hogwarts.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	In Love

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on LiveJournal 6/3/05. Thanks to Asterie for the beta.

Black and Lupin are in love.

It’s obvious from the way they act in lessons. They keep glancing across the classroom at each other, smiling when their eyes meet.

They may not realise that people are noticing them, talking about them. The two friends think they’re the same as they’ve always been, to outsiders. But a lot of the students at Hogwarts are beginning to wonder what’s going on, and so are the teachers.

In Muggle Studies, Black and Lupin have worked together to produce a brilliant project on Modern Entertainments. They even went to a London cinema during the holidays. The Muggle Studies girls giggle, and imagine them sitting in the back row, snogging. The thought of them as a couple is hot, even if it’s a pity that two of the most fanciable boys in Seventh Year are now off-limits.

‘What film did you see?’ Lily Evans asks.

Black looks blank. ‘I can’t remember the title. There was a girl in it, and this bloke. Hey, Lupin, what was that film called?’

‘ _Training Tigers_ ,’ Lupin says, not looking up from his textbook. ‘I bet you didn’t know that Muggles put their rubbish in something called Wheelie Bins.’

Black cracks up, even though it isn’t really that funny. Evans glances at her best friend, Zoe Smith, and they roll their eyes. Those boys, really. It’s so cute that they always laugh at each other’s jokes.

Professor Milton asks them to pin their work on the wall, without using magic. Black immediately sticks a pin into his finger, and the Muggle Studies girls wait agog for Lupin to take Black’s hand tenderly in his and kiss the wound better. He doesn’t, of course. He mutters, ‘You idiot’, and takes the pin from Black and puts the pages of the project up himself.

It really is a lovely piece of work, Lupin’s neat writing, and Black’s diagrams, and descriptions of the film they saw, and the Punk movement that’s flourishing in London, and the strange, discordant music of bands like the Sex Pistols, and the clubs, and the dancing.

‘D’you think they dance together?’ Zoe mutters to Lily. She’s one of the girls who’s a bit sorry Lupin likes boys. The girls pause for a second, imagining Black and Lupin with their arms round each other, swaying to a slow song.

Black and Lupin don’t seem to have any such image of themselves. They’re sitting beside each other – Muggle Studies is one of the few NEWT classes in which members of the Marauders aren’t separated – assiduously taking notes. No doubt their legs are touching under the table.

‘I wonder how much they saw of each other in the hols,’ Lily muses.

Zoe giggles. ‘A whole lot, I bet.’

The professor is lenient with his two star pupils. When there’s research to be done, like studying greeting cards, he sends Black and Lupin off to Hogsmeade to see what they can find in the specialist Muggle store there. Lily and Zoe time how long they’re gone: probably not too very long. Enough to clasp hands tightly when they’re well away from the school grounds, but nothing more.

A few of the cards are a bit crude – Muggles don’t seem to take special events seriously. Professor Milton won’t let the girls see those, but the boys all crowd round and have a good snigger. And Black and Lupin still get an O on the essay they write jointly about why there are Christmas cards in Muggle shops from September onwards. 

‘We could hardly find a single birthday card,’ Lupin tells Lily afterwards.

Lily snorts, and says, 'It’s just as well, considering some of the ones you _did_ find.'

The autumn days are warm and golden, and at lunchtime the students spill out into the grounds and sprawl on the grass by the lake. Black and Lupin always sit side by side, black head and light head close, whispering secrets, secrets that the girls would love to hear but never will. 

There’s an aura round them, definitely. Whenever they just look at each other, you can sense it, see their eyes lighting up in spite of themselves, the way their pupils dilate, even. That’s how closely the Gryffindor girls are watching them in the evenings, in the common room.

Black and Lupin aren’t together every second, mind you. Black often challenges Potter to a game of chess. Or Black and Potter are engrossed in some new plan they’re hatching for Potter finally to win Lily Evans’s heart. They’re Head Boy and Girl now, which seems like an omen.

Lupin will be at a table by the fire – he’s never far from the fire – reading or scribbling an essay on a rather tatty roll of parchment. His writing’s good, but parchment tends to get scrunched up in his bag, which is bulging with too many textbooks. Black will sometimes gaze at him as he concentrates. He’ll watch Lupin, and Lupin will look up and gaze back, and then Lily will nudge Zoe and wink.

October sets in and the cold starts to bite. The girls would love to see Black keeping Lupin warm. Not in any obscene way: they gossip and giggle, and imagine the two boys cuddled up close, turning over the pages of a book together. Or lying on the sofa, Zoe muses, perhaps because _she’d_ like to have had the chance to lie on a sofa with Lupin.

Sometimes, they do sit on the shabby red and gold sofa, and then the girls stop doing their homework and glance over from time to time to see if the pair of them are giving any evidence of their obvious feelings, like suddenly kissing passionately or something. 

At the Halloween feast, Black and Lupin lean towards each other by the light of many candles, talking earnestly. Lily pokes Zoe. ‘D’you think they’re sleeping together?’ she whispers. 

Zoe finds the idea exciting, but ‘I don’t think so,’ she admits. ‘Where would they do it?’

A lot of the pupils now look up hopefully when Black and Lupin walk into the common room or the classroom or the Great Hall, in case they’ll start making out or something. Some of the girls swear they’ve seen them in empty classrooms, their bodies pressed so closely together it’s obvious what they’re doing, their hands tangled in each other’s hair. Black and Lupin might wish themselves that these rumours were true, but sadly they are not. 

The teachers also notice that the two boys are in love. Professor McGonagall is concerned, and has a word with the Headmaster. 

‘Well, you have to take love where you find it,’ he says, mildly enough, though he isn’t exactly delighted. He has had his own run-in with the Blacks, when their older son left home: they blamed the school, and sent him some very threatening owls. But he thinks Black may return to his family one day, and make that pureblood marriage they are still eager for him to make. And then Lupin will get hurt.

Some of the other members of staff aren’t so tolerant. The deputy head of Slytherin, fortunately, doesn’t know much about it, because Lupin doesn’t do Ancient Runes; just as well, because Professor Bugloss is another believer in pureblood marriages. In fact, he has campaigned to lower the age of consent so witches can marry at fifteen, giving them plenty of time to produce as many new purebloods as possible. He could never countenance the abomination of two boys in love, especially if one of them is a Black.

However, Professor Flitwick feels rather like the Muggle Studies girls; he now allows Black and Lupin to sit next to each other in Charms, and practise their wand work together. 

*

Moony and Padfoot are in love.

Not just the wolf and the dog, of course, but two of the four boys who have nicknames that the other pupils and the staff sometimes wonder about.

The wolf and the dog have always got on brilliantly, of course, two canines who delight in howling at the moon. But recently, they’ve started to get on even better. It’s November now, and on the long full-moon night, they easily outrun the deer and the rat; they play catch with each until they’re exhausted and sink to the ground in the Forbidden Forest for a rest, nuzzling each other affectionately.

It’s a frosty morning, and Moony wakes in the Shack with the black dog lying beside him. He shakes him, a bit feebly, and says, ‘Oi, Padfoot, change now.’ Then, when Padfoot has metamorphosed back into Sirius, they both suddenly feel self-conscious, and shift a bit so they aren't touching. But they’re smiling, and when their eyes meet they don’t look away immediately.

In the dorm, where it’s just the four of them, the two boys will shyly perch on one of their beds, not quite holding hands. It’s a new, fragile feeling, and they’re both frightened of breaking the spell.

It’s been building for quite a while, of course. They’ve always been good friends, but for the past few months they’ve each become mesmerised by something in the other that they didn’t notice when they were younger. The strength and willpower that it takes to put up with changing painfully every month, perhaps: qualities like quietness and studiousness seem admirable suddenly in the face of the cataclysm that always lies ahead.

And it’s certainly easier to feel warm and compassionate towards a boy whose family have disowned him because they never loved him as he deserved, than towards a haughty pureblood who sometimes taunts those weaker than himself. 

Of course, nobody can resist a big, black dog. When Padfoot is a dog, and Moony is a boy, they find it easy to lavish attention on each other. Moony loves to rumple the dog’s fur and groom him, things he would never dream of doing to Sirius. Padfoot, of course, is always happy to lick his favourite person, wagging his tail wildly and barking sometimes to show his delight.

In human form, they find it a bit more difficult to show their feelings.

For a start, there are the other two members of the quartet, Prongs and Wormtail. Wormtail is a bit disgusted, a bit worried. He’s a conventional child, who finds it hard to understand anything that isn’t in the centre of normal. He’s fond of his friends, he wishes them well, but he doesn’t really want to know. 

It’s not as if they _do_ anything. They don’t touch, or very rarely, and they don’t often manage to seek out time alone. He gets the sense, though, that when the group is together, Padfoot and Moony don’t really join in anymore. It’s as if, now they’ve discovered their mutual feelings, they’re a bit divorced from him and Prongs. 

Moony and Padfoot will occasionally steal morsels from each other’s plates, which disturbs Wormtail. That’s a new thing too, because Moony especially hates eating food anyone else has touched, yet he’ll put Padfoot’s fork into his mouth after Padfoot has licked it. Wormtail, who doesn’t realise he’s even more fastidious than Moony, shudders at the thought. He also worries that one day they’ll begin to feed each other, or something. 

He’ll sometimes wonder what it would be like if they start kissing. It’s just speculation, because he’s not sure that they ever will; after all, they haven’t yet. He hopes it’s what his mother would call a phase, because really, they can’t be in love. Love is with girls. They just like each other.

Prongs isn’t at all sure what he thinks about it. In many ways, it’s like an extended prank. A prank gone wrong, because there are times when he feels very, very uncomfortable with Moony and Padfoot sitting in the dorm making googly eyes at each other. It’s quite beyond him how this happened.

He has even asked jokingly, ‘Hey, why Moony and not me?’ After all, _he’s_ always been Padfoot’s best mate.

Padfoot replied, also jokingly, ‘You’re a very attractive guy, Prongs, but you’re not my type. Anyway, I don’t think Lily’d be too pleased.’

Prongs rationalises that if Padfoot is That Way it makes sense for him to pick someone who must also be That Way. And he privately thinks that both his mates will eventually come to their senses anyway, and stop pointedly walking at a distance from each other and blushing if they accidentally touch in public, or meet in the corridors.

But the stag forgets his misgivings, and joins happily in the simple moonlit games, running until he collapses, then watching the wolf and the dog from a safe distance, so as not to frighten the rat nestling behind his antlers. The stag thinks it’s perfectly natural for Moony and Padfoot to be together. Preordained, he would say, if stags knew long words like that.

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs all stay at school for the holidays, because there’s a full moon on Christmas Day that year. The four of them romp in the snow until dawn. And once all the animals have transformed back, Padfoot can't help putting his arm protectively round Moony, smoothing back his sweat-drenched hair. He's overwhelmed by his feelings, the desire to look after and lavish affection on the boy who cries sometimes with the pain of returning to his own body.

Late on Boxing Day, Padfoot sneaks in to lie beside Moony as he dozes in the Hospital Wing. The two boys wake up in the dark, silent infirmary; Padfoot whispers ‘I love you’ and they hold each other wordlessly for the rest of the night.

*

Remus and Sirius are in love.

They want to shout it from the rooftops one second, the next they want to stay very, very quiet, keep it secret, away from unsympathetic, prying eyes, from jealous people who might wish them ill and magic this wonderful emotion away.

Being in love is just so great. It’s kittens and puppies and snowflakes and pretty, glittery paper stars. It’s sitting together in Charms and managing to perform such incredibly perfect Cheering Charms on each other that Flitwick gives 50 points to Gryffindor. 

Later, Remus confides, 'I didn't deserve my share of the points. I was so happy anyway that the charm probably didn’t make any difference.'

‘Hey, that’s just what I was thinking!’ Sirius says, pleased, and beams back at Remus, until suddenly they’re both embarrassed and look away.

It’s wanting to be with just one other person. Of course, they love their friends, but somehow they’re finding it very hard to talk to anyone else. James never understands that Sirius simply can’t concentrate on Quidditch or chess at the moment, or even discuss how they blew up Snivellus in Potions. Sure, James is with Lily a lot more now, but he’d still like to come back to the common room occasionally and spend some time with his best mate.

Winter’s at its peak, and through January and February, an icy wind blasts through the castle; in Scotland, even wizards don’t have the faintest idea about central heating. But the two boys never get cold. Remus may shiver a bit as he gets out from under his cosy bedclothes in the morning, but then he’ll see Sirius emerging from his own bed just opposite, and Sirius will smile at him, and both boys will feel warm all over, and the forbidding grey day outside will be tinged with pink and rainbows.

In the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling threatens buckets of sleet, but Remus and Sirius, sitting beneath it eating their bacon and egg, see a sky full of sunshine and twittering bluebirds.

Being in love really is that good.

Love is strange; it’s so fragile, seems about to fly away at the slightest provocation. Yet it’s delicate like a spider’s web, and the two boys trapped in the gossamer filaments can struggle all they like, but they’ll never get free.

Being in love isn’t quite perfect, though, because of the touching. The touching is a bit scary, for the moment. Not just scary; they don’t really have a chance to do all the things they want to do. They’ll hold hands under the desk in Muggle Studies, and often hug for a lot longer than you’d hug a friend, but they still haven’t got as far as the intimate contact of skin on skin. Once they take that step, things will change.

Instead, they play these sweet, teasing games. Mad games, March games, games that only two can play. 

One of them is called Fooling McGonagall. What happens is, they’ll be at opposite sides of the Transfiguration classroom, and Sirius will concentrate hard on what he’d like to do to Remus, and Remus will concentrate hard on receiving the information. Sometimes, when McGonagall is helping one of the slower pupils, Sirius will waft a note across to Remus, but they prefer to play this game without overt communication.

Sirius focuses, for instance, on kissing Remus. He imagines how his lips would touch Remus’s lips, how soft and tingling it would feel. He then imagines his tongue coaxing open Remus’s mouth, and exploring Remus’s tongue.

If he looks across and Remus is sitting slightly dazed, and his tongue darts out to lick his suddenly dry lips, he knows it’s working. Later, Remus will give no hint that he felt the touch of Sirius’s mouth on his, the almost unbearably erotic pressure of his lips, or that it made him react in any way at all.

Of course, both of them know different.

Some day soon, they’ll get round to making their mind-games physical. In the meantime, they talk about them, of course, but only tangentially. One of the rules, agreed on at the start, is that neither is going to admit openly to the sensations they kindle in the other from a distance. Sirius won’t flat-out ask Remus, ‘Did you feel me kissing you?’ He’ll say, ‘You didn’t look very comfortable in the lesson.’ 

Remus will shift from one foot to another and look at Sirius’s chin, and mumble, ‘Yeah, it was a bit hot.’

Then, Sirius will say, 'I bet it was' and smirk, because he knows everything there is to know about hot, and how hot he thinks Remus is, and how he really, really wants to be lying with Remus on a bed, any bed, and snogging him senseless. 

On April Fool’s Day, everyone at Hogwarts is on their guard against the Marauders. This year is a dreadful disappointment for anyone expecting the annual pranks. Lily and James are absorbed in their own romance; anyway, the Head Boy isn’t going to risk his badge. True, the bell for lunch goes half an hour earlier than usual, and then there’s a fake troll alert, but that’s lame compared to the glory days when the Slytherins would spontaneously combust or grow horns and tails. 

Peter has no initiative, so if James is inactive, so is he. As for Remus and Sirius, they somehow can’t muster the energy to hex their enemies this year. They could try, but they’d succeed only in conjuring up hearts and flowers, more suitable for Valentine’s Day. All the same, they take advantage of the early bell to hold each other close for a short while in the deserted Divination Tower.

After the Easter holidays, they play another game, the goodnight game. Every evening, they whisper, ‘Sleep well,’ and touch foreheads like the wolf and the dog do. Then, they go to their separate beds and dream about each other, fervent, passionate dreams that leave the sheets sticky and the two boys yearning for more.

In the mornings, they acknowledge their dreams by a sidelong glance, a joint flicking of wands to perform the cleaning charm, a rueful admission that they really must start doing it properly soon. 

No matter how daunting, there comes a time when they will go crazy with longing if they carry on like this.

As the weather starts to improve, one or other, Sirius probably, will brave the distance between their beds, and they'll finally snuggle up together, whispering and giggling, until there is no space at all between them, and they’re kissing for real, and touching and moaning, and suddenly they know how, exactly how, and it isn’t scary at all, except it can take over your soul. Afterwards, they'll turn to each other, and Sirius will ask, ‘Why did we wait so long?’ and Remus will answer, ‘Because we didn’t realise.’

And the teasing games change to forbidden games, white nights which leave them stumbling through the days like sleepwalkers adrift in visionary lands. In May, when spring finally arrives, they lie on the carpet of bluebells in the Hogsmeade woods, tracing each other’s features with their fingers, gazing deep into each other’s eyes, whispering words that nobody else is allowed to hear.

The last weeks at Hogwarts unfurl in a trance of wanting and needing and having. When the girls look now, they see Remus and Sirius dazed and enchanted, always far too close together, and they no longer need to search for signs. In the dorm at night, though Remus and Sirius are discreet, James and Peter must have noticed that Sirius rarely wakes up in his own bed. James is preoccupied with Lily, and doesn’t take in too much, but Peter sometimes feels on the verge of crying, and he couldn’t say why.

Every morning, when the sun streams into the dorm, it even penetrates the thick curtains round Remus’s bed. The two boys kiss, and sometimes more, and when they make love they know that they will always be young and happy, and the scent of roses will always waft in through an open window, and the world will always be filled with light. 

There’s a sequence of nights that sizzle and glow, when Remus and Sirius hardly sleep, when they’re pressed together so tightly that they could almost be one person. Then, it’s nearly July again, and the end of school forever. NEWTs are over, and the weather has broken. On a damp, overcast afternoon the boys in the Gryffindor Seventh Year dorm pack their trunks for the last time. 

Peter is the only one still on his own. James and Lily are about to get engaged. As for Remus and Sirius, they’re going to live together, go to sleep together every night and wake up together every morning. Remus waves his wand and his socks and shirts fold themselves and float into his trunk, and he imagines how he’ll unpack them in Sirius’s flat. His and Sirius’s flat.

Sirius says ruefully, ‘I wish I could pack as well as you.’

Remus asks, ‘D’you want me to help?’ but it’s too late; Sirius flicks his wand, and a tangled mass of robes and Gryffindor ties vies for space in his trunk with books and Honeydukes sweets and his Muggle colouring pencils. He sings under his breath as he thinks about him and Remus alone and home at last.

Now, more than ever, they are totally in love. They can almost reach out and touch the summer to come, and the perfect seasons stretching boundlessly in front of them.

**End**


End file.
